ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, May 5, 1996 TAG: 9605070002
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C-8 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: OUTDOORS
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
The old, boss gobbler had been giving Gary and Seth Johnson the slip.
``The last three seasons, anyway,'' said Gary, who lives in Christiansburg. Seth is his favorite turkey-hunting partner, his 14-year-old son.
Their hunting area is Floyd County, where spring, like a yeast, causes buds to swell into pastel-colored leaves and turns the thoughts of tom turkeys to love.
At daylight, the boss turkey would challenge the world from his roost with a deep-throated gobble.
``Each time I called, he would gobble back until he flew down,'' Gary said.
With powerful wings that whistled in the crisp morning air, the tom would sail to the forest duff and smack into a flock of waiting and willing hens. At that point, the hunt pretty much was over for the Johnsons.
Twenty years ago, you didn't see many hens during the spring gobbler season. But turkey populations have grown, and now there can appear to be a dozen eager hens for every gobbler.
Hens are competition for callers. It is your diaphragm or box or slate vs. the real thing - flesh, blood and feathers.
Hens have the advantage of being able to get right next to a tom, even roost on the same branch. Hunters must hide in the distance and hope to persuade the gobbler to come to them. That means altering the course of nature, because hens usually are attracted to gobblers rather than the other way around.
The influence of hens is the biggest way spring gobbler hunting has changed the past couple of decades. It means that while Seth Johnson and other youngsters have inherited record turkey populations, they also have reaped the challenge of a woods full of hens. To deal with that, you learn to play it smart.
``This year, we tried something different,'' Gary Johnson said. ``We split up and got on both sides of the treed bird.''
With the two hunters calling from opposite directions, Seth's calls won the favor of the boss tom. The big bird came his way, and so did the hens and the jakes and the 2-year-old toms - the entire flock. Gary deemed this to be remarkable, since Seth calls with his mouth rather than a man-made device.
``He didn't get a chance at the boss, but bagged a 22-pounder,'' Gary said. ``Not bad for a 14-year-old.''
As it turned out, it wouldn't be bad for the father of a 14-year-old, either.
The shot spooked three toms and a hen Gary's way, and he killed a 22-pounder, too.
A week later, in a different section of Floyd County, Seth killed a 20-pound tom.
``I told him I was tired of cleaning his birds, but I didn't have to worry anymore this year,'' said Gary.
``What do you mean?'' said Seth.
``Son, you have tagged out'' with a limit of two.
``Oh, yeah! Now I can sleep late.''
In the meantime, out there on a Floyd County ridge, where the redbuds and the dogwoods add streaks and splashes of color to the woodlands, a boss tom gobbles from its roost at daylight and the hens approach. The proud tom flies down to strut and gobble and fan its tail and parade before the hens, passing his seed to a new generation.
But watch out, Mr.Boss. Next spring there will be a 15-year-old youngster out there, and not just a year older but wiser, too.
The fat lady is not yet singing.
LENGTH: Medium: 69 linesby CNB